I’m nineteen. This was the first election that I have been able to participate in. I was so excited.
The polling place is at the elementary school on the corner of my street, so I walked. As I walked into the cafetorium where I spent my days as a kid playing dodgeball and eating lunch (at separate times, mind you), I was surprised that there was no one there.
The people who ran the show were there, of course, but there were no fellow voters. This was actually a sigh of relief because I didn’t know what I was doing. As I signed my name on the card, one of the men working sat there and glared at me the entire time. I don’t understand.
I got to my station and filled out my ballot. I looked to my left and saw a great deal of food and apple juice. I still don’t know if that was for me or the workers. No sign or anything. I was probably free to take some food and drink, but I didn’t feel very welcome in the first place, due to the glaring. When I was done and put my ballot in the machine (I was number 89 so far today), I asked if there was anything else I needed to do. They said I was free to leave. So I left.
Without an “I voted!” sticker.
